I started getting my nails done the week before I began my first ever corporate job at age 23 — I think I was obsessed with the idea of looking down at my perfectly manicured and painted hands typing on the keyboard throughout the workday. At 23, having a flawless gel manicure made me believe in the facade that I was a real adult who had my life together, I guess. I painted my nails bright purple and I felt like I could take on the world. I miss that naive version of myself.
Since then, for the past 6 years, I have found genuine joy in getting a gel manicure about once a month. It is an act of self-care I cherish. Occasionally I will go months without one, giving my natural nails a chance to breathe, and as silly as it sounds, I feel like a part of me is missing. Wearing nail polish has become a simple way to express myself and make a style statement. I own a wide range of colors in my wardrobe, and that pattern follows through to the colors I paint my nails.
I never get the same color twice — at least, not intentionally. I like to get a color that is currently inspiring me. A color that is speaking to me at the time, and that color is constantly changing.
When nostalgia is at its peak and I sit and reminisce about a certain moment of my twenties, I now can’t help but think about the color nail polish I had at the time. I am not sure how I am able to remember the color, but I usually can (feel free to quiz me). I think back and smile about how the color I chose coincidentally felt perfect at the time I chose to wear it.
I think of the neon green nails I had during my friend’s bachelorette trip to San Juan — how fun that weekend was and how hard I laughed walking through a drive-thru on foot. Lorde released Solar Power while we were there, and I listened to it for the first time drunk after a night out in the city. My hair was blonde back then and I wore my natural curls the whole time. I remember feeling beautiful.
I think of the bright yellow (with a sparkly silver French tip) nails I got hours before my 24th birthday party. How the man doing my nails asked me if I was sure that was the color I wanted (I guess bright yellow is not a very popular color choice). How that birthday party was probably the best I have had to date — all my friends from all walks of life together in a karaoke room in K-Town, singing until our throats were sore and we almost missed the very last train home from Penn Station.
I think of the rose red I chose for my first-ever solo trip to Copenhagen. How the color felt as bold and as confident as the journey I was about to embark on. How much I enjoyed eating a dozen different pastries alone in the middle of Denmark.
I think of the magenta nails I had this past fall. The shade I got a few days before my very first date with my now-boyfriend. The very nails I ran my first-ever half marathon with and got a random promotion at work with. I jokingly called those my good luck nails. Maybe I wasn’t joking.
All different colors for different eras of my life. How lucky I am to have lived them all.
I look down at the dark pink nails I got done last weekend. The older woman next to me at the salon liked the shade I chose so much that she asked to use it once I was done. I felt oddly flattered, like I made the right choice out of the hundreds of color options available. I wonder how I will look back and remember my pink nails and this era of my life. I’m excited to find out.
Until next time!
XO, Daelyn <3
haven’t painted my nails in a while but you motivated me to start again! love how you’ve found your happiness and empowerment in everyday life!
I am a consistent French tip or pearly white nail type of girl but I never thought about it like this—maybe I’ll do blue next :)